#Cozy Baby Gear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aerialmirrorss · 12 days ago

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𝐬 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐦 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ zach maclaren

playing: 𝟏𝟖 by one direction 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! every winter break, you and your childhood best friend zach’s families plan the annual trip to your family’s cabin in the mountains. but when an accident happens, a guilt-ridden zach is willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel better.

paring: zach maclaren x fem!reader

warnings: childhood friends to lovers , zach accidentally hurts reader , mentions of bruising , angst , lots of fluff (zach is so hopelessly in love with you it hurts) , sexual content + unprotected sex! , fingering , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 8.2k

notes: today’s post is a long one but bear w me pls i had to edit so much of it :(

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“can you grab the spare?” zach calls from the back of the range rover, tugging the luggage out of the trunk.

stepping out of the car, the icy air hits your face like a slap, the sudden chill turning your nose pink and making your cheeks tingle.

“fuck, it’s freezing,” you mutter under your breath, hurrying over to the pile of rocks near the cabin door. your fingers, already stiff and trembling from the cold, fumble as you dig through the stones, searching for the fake rock with the hidden spare key.

finally, you find it and unlock the door. you and zach waste no time rushing inside, flipping on the furnace and switching on the electric fireplace. warm air begins to spill into the room, cutting through the biting chill.

“jesus, it’s brutal out there,” zach says with a laugh, dropping the suitcases by the front door.

“i know,” you reply, rubbing your hands together for warmth. “i don’t get how our parents do it when they get here first.”

your gaze sweeps over the cabin, familiar and cozy even in its current state of disarray. a small smile creeps onto your face as memories flood back. by the time your family usually arrives, the maclarens have already set everything up—lights twinkling, garlands hung, the whole place transformed for the holidays.

but not this year. this year, you and zach got here first. being in college has made it easier for the two of you to make the trip, especially since it’s only a short drive from campus. with your parents tied up at work, they won’t arrive for another two days, leaving you and zach to settle in and prepare the cabin yourselves

zach seems to read your mind as he heads toward the storage closet under the staircase. “the moms mentioned something about the decorations being in here,” he says, pulling open the door.

he starts rummaging through the piles, expecting to find boxes labeled xmas. instead, his hand lands on a stack labeled snowboarding gear. a small smile tugs at his lips.

“guess the decorations can wait,” he says, pulling out the boxes. turning to you, he raises an eyebrow, and you meet his look with a knowing nod. “get dressed.”

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you glide across the flat, powdery snow after hopping off the ski lift. the cold air nips at your cheeks, leaving them rosy and warm beneath your baby pink goggles. when you finally stop at the edge of the slope, you tug the goggles up onto your helmet, panting softly as mist forms in the cold air.

zach approaches behind you, stopping at your side. you look up at him, your eyes bright with excitement. “hi,” you say, your breath still catching from the climb.

“hey,” he replies, chuckling softly, his voice warm and steady. he feels something tighten in his chest—your voice, your smile, the way you look at him. if only you knew how effortlessly you could bring him to his knees.

but he would never say it. not to you. not when it could risk the friendship you’ve built over years.

you’ve been inseparable since second grade, when zach worked up the courage to ask for your help mastering the monkey bars. you were the only one who could make it all the way across without falling, and he’d admired you ever since. now, here you are—still together, still tangled in a friendship that means everything, even if it sometimes feels like it could be so much more.

zach isn’t sure when his feelings for you started to shift, turning into something he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore either. maybe it was that afternoon when he was twelve, bedridden with a nasty cold, and you showed up unannounced with a thermos of homemade chicken soup. the soup had been borderline inedible—too salty, with mushy noodles—but the gesture had warmed him in a way he’d never forget. of course, he’d eaten every last bite and told you it was perfect.

or maybe it was on his fifteenth birthday. he’d always treated his birthday like any other day, never one to make a big deal of it, but you didn’t see it that way. while he was out, you snuck into his room and filled it with many presents and blue and black balloons—his favorite colors. he’d walked in, startled by the effort you’d put in just to make him smile, and something about it stuck with him.

or maybe it was the night he ended things with his first long-term girlfriend at seventeen. her problem had been you—the closeness you and zach shared, the bond she couldn’t understand. she’d wanted him to choose, and it wasn’t even a question. when you found out, you didn’t say “i told you so” or press him for details. instead, you showed up with a bag of junk food and a stack of movies. you stayed the whole weekend, laughing, crying over sappy scenes, and talking until the early hours of the morning about your dreams and futures.

in every timeline, in every version of his life, zach knows he’d choose you. over a girlfriend, over a best friend, over anyone.

a soft click pulls zach from his thoughts. glancing down, he sees you already strapped to your snowboard, your goggles perched perfectly on your face. you reach up, offering your hand for help. with barely any effort, zach pulls you to your feet, earning a giggle that tugs at his chest more than he cares to admit.

“i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of this view,” you say softly, taking in the snow-draped mountains and the endless horizon of white and blue.

zach crouches down, fumbling slightly as he straps himself into his board. his fingers falter when he glances up at you. the way your smile glows as you take in the scenery—it’s more breathtaking to him than the view itself.

“yeah,” he murmurs, his voice quiet. “me either.”

you turn to him with a playful glint in your eye. “race you down?”

zach chuckles, shaking his head as he secures his last buckle. “no.”

you blink at him, brows furrowing. “why not?”

“because,” he says, standing and stretching, a smug grin tugging at his lips, “i’ll smoke you so fast it’ll almost be sad.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes at the playful jab, but the spark of competition ignites instantly. zach knows you well enough to see it too. before he can say another word, you tug your goggles down, lean forward, and launch yourself down the slope, your speed kicking up a flurry of snow in your wake.

“cheater!” zach yells after you, his voice echoing through the mountain air.

your laughter rings out, light and carefree, as you pull your face cover up to shield yourself from the biting cold. with a determined grin, zach pulls down his goggles and takes off after you, the race already on.

the descent starts smoothly, the rush of cold air whipping past your face as you carve through the snow, the thrill of the slope igniting your competitive streak. you glance over your shoulder, spotting zach gaining on you. he’s fast—faster than you expected—and his determined grin sends a surge of adrenaline through you.

you try to pick up speed, leaning into the next turn, but your edge catches an icy patch. it happens so quickly—a sharp jolt, your balance slipping, and suddenly, you’re tumbling. the world tilts, snow sprays into the air, and before you can even react, you collide with something solid.

or rather, someone.

zach.

the two of you go down in a tangled heap, his snowboard slicing awkwardly into the snow as he tries (and fails) to stop in time. his arms instinctively wrap around you as you both slide a few more feet before finally coming to a stop in a soft bank of powder.

for a moment, everything is still.

you blink up at him, stunned and breathless, your goggles slightly askew. zach’s face hovers inches above yours, his cheeks flushed—not just from the cold.

“you good?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, though his lips twitch into a small smile.

you can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the moment catching up to you. “yeah… i think so. you?”

he nods, chuckling now too. “well, i wasn’t planning on eating snow, but at least i cushioned your fall.”

you roll your eyes, shoving at his chest lightly as he helps you sit up. “cushioned my fall? you practically tackled me.”

“only because you fell first,” he counters, his grin widening.

despite the snow seeping into your clothes and the ache of your tumble, you find yourself laughing again. zach stands, brushing snow off himself before offering you his hand. as he pulls you up, you notice his gaze lingering just a little longer than usual, his smile softer now.

just as the rush of laughter and adrenaline starts to fade, a sharp, sudden pain slices through your side, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp, instinctively clutching your side. “ouch.”

zach’s smile vanishes, his brows knitting together in concern. “what? what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know, i—” another sharp pang makes you wince, doubling over slightly as you shuffle off to the side of the slope, out of the way of other snowboarders. your hands fumble to tug off your gloves, urgency overriding the cold.

you shove the gloves into zach’s hands without a word and begin unzipping your snow jacket, pulling up your thermal layer to investigate. you crane your neck to look, but the angle makes it impossible to see what’s wrong. the pain is sharp and unrelenting, leaving you wincing as you try to figure it out.

“can you see anything?” you ask, your voice tight.

but zach’s expression answers before he says a word. his eyes widen, his face draining of color as he steps closer, urgency in every movement.

“oh shit,” he mutters, already crouching down to get a better look.

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“intercostal muscle strain,” the doctor says, her tone calm but firm as you sit up with a wince. “you’re very lucky—it could’ve been a fractured or broken rib, and that would’ve been far more painful than what you’re feeling now.”

you nod slowly, wincing again as you pull your clothes back down over your bare torso.

“it’s nothing serious, thankfully,” she continues, scribbling something onto a notepad. “but you’ll need to take it easy—no snowboarding for at least a week.”

you groan dramatically, throwing your arm over your eyes in exasperation, only to regret it instantly as the ache in your side flares. you hiss through your teeth, lowering your arm gingerly.

the doctor hides a small smile at your frustration. “get plenty of rest, and take two 500mg Tylenol every 4–6 hours to help with the pain,” she advises. “for the bruising, you can pick up some arnica gel or aloe vera at a pharmacy—it’ll help with the inflammation.”

zach, who’s been quietly standing at your side the whole time, finally speaks up. “so no snowboarding at all?”

“none,” the doctor confirms, looking at you pointedly.

zach lets out a quiet sigh of relief, grateful nothing was broken, though the guilt still gnaws at him. that tumble had cost you a week of your vacation, and the thought that he played a part in it made his chest ache.

his hand rests idly on the edge of your pillow, his mind clouded with regret, when he suddenly feels your fingers brush against his. his gaze shifts to yours, and he knows immediately that you’ve read him like a book.

the doctor steps out, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. she’s seen the unspoken bond between the two of you—something that everyone else seems to notice, even if you and zach haven’t admitted it to yourselves.

“i’m so sorry—” zach starts, his voice heavy with remorse, but you cut him off with a gentle shake of your head.

“it wasn’t your fault, zach,” you say firmly, your voice soft yet steady. your fingers trace small patterns on the back of his hand, grounding him. “there was no way to stop that fall from happening, or for you to avoid crashing into me. it was just… one of those things.”

zach looks down at your intertwined fingers, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

you smile, swinging your legs carefully over the edge of the bed to stand. “though i do wish you hadn’t elbowed me so hard in the process.”

your playful jab makes him groan, dropping his head into his hand. “you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“not a chance,” you tease, grinning as you test your balance on your feet.

his guilty expression softens into something lighter, his lips quirking into a small smile as he watches you. “fair enough,” he murmurs, his tone filled with a mix of relief and something deeper he doesn’t quite let himself say.

as per the doctor’s advice, you and zach stopped at a nearby pharmacy on the way back to the cabin, picking up some arnica gel for the swelling and a bottle of tylenol. zach had insisted on carrying everything, even as you rolled your eyes and tried to insist you were fine.

back at the cabin, he’d gone into full caretaker mode. now, you were nestled on the couch in your favorite pajamas, surrounded by fluffed pillows, a warm blanket, and fuzzy socks. zach had even turned on your favorite comfort show, leaving no detail overlooked.

in the kitchen, you could hear him speaking quietly with your parents on the phone. the tone of his voice was calm and reassuring, though you caught a few words here and there about “keeping an eye on her” and “following doctor’s orders.”

“yeah, I will. alright—yeah, sounds good, I’ll let her know. oh- okay. bye.”

zach ended the call, setting his phone down on the kitchen island before heading over to you with a water bottle, a couple of tylenol pills, and a snack bowl balanced in his hands. he plopped onto the couch next to you, a small laugh escaping as he handed you the items.

“let me guess,” you started, mockingly, “make sure she’s actually taking the pain meds and don’t let her go snowboarding no matter how much she begs.”

zach laughed, shaking his head. “pretty much. they’re just worried about you. it took a lot of convincing to stop them from dropping everything at work and driving straight to the hospital.”

you took the water bottle and pills, rolling your eyes as you scanned the label. “this is bullshit. i feel fine. it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.”

zach raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “don’t lie. i can hear you cursing under your breath every time you move too fast.”

he twisted open the water bottle and popped open the tylenol, handing them back to you with an air of exaggerated patience.

“i can open my own stuff, you know,” you grumbled, though you took both from him.

“sure, you can,” he said, leaning back against the couch with a smirk. “but this way, i get to feel useful. so, humor me.”

you roll your eyes but oblige, popping the pills into your mouth and washing them down with a gulp of water. for the rest of the afternoon, you and zach fully embraced the art of laziness. you binged several episodes of your comfort show, made your way through the entire snack bowl, and eventually ordered pizza, which arrived just as the last crumbs of chips were devoured—all within four hours.

the warmth of the blanket, the soft hum of the TV, and the exhaustion from the day caught up with you. before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut, the drowsiness overpowering. when you woke, it was to the gentle sensation of zach’s fingers absentmindedly scratching your scalp, the rhythm soothing and familiar.

blinking groggily, you realized your head was resting on his chest. you froze for a split second, then relaxed as the memory of shifting there for comfort came back to you. his chest was sturdy, warm, and—well—perfectly positioned to avoid putting pressure on your sore side. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“hi,” you croaked, voice raspy with sleep.

“hey,” zach replied softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. his hand paused in your hair briefly before he added, “you need to put the arnica gel on your bruise.”

you groaned in protest, burying your face further into his chest like a stubborn child. the vibration of his laugh rumbled beneath you, warm and familiar.

“c’mon,” he coaxed, leaning forward carefully so you weren’t jostled, reaching for the small container of arnica on the coffee table. his other arm stayed around you, steadying you as he sat back.

with a reluctant sigh, you pushed yourself off him, grumbling as you lifted your pajama shirt just enough to expose the bruised area. even with the pain dulled from the meds, the stretch made you wince, and you let the shirt drop again with a frustrated groan.

“can you help me put it on?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

zach hesitated for a beat, the question catching him off guard. you didn’t notice, but his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the proximity and intimacy of the request making his pulse quicken.

“yeah, of course,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his heart raced. he unscrewed the lid, squeezing a small amount of the gel onto his fingers before looking at you. when you nodded, he shifted closer, his movements gentle and deliberate as he applied the gel to your side.

his touch was careful, almost hesitant, as if afraid of hurting you. “let me know if it stings,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

“it’s fine,” you replied softly, your eyes closing again as the soothing coolness of the gel and his careful touch eased the ache.

zach’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he worked the now-warmed gel into your skin. the rhythmic motion of his fingers was steady, but inside, his composure was unraveling. there was something undeniably intimate about this moment—your quiet, fluttering reactions every time his fingers brushed a new spot, the way your breath hitched when he applied just the right amount of pressure.

his fingers moved instinctively, lifting your shirt a little higher to cover the edges of the bruise, and that’s when he saw it. the small, delicate tattoo just below the curve of your breast.

divine feminine.

the words seemed to stare back at him, burning into his mind as his breath hitched. he swallowed hard, his hand pausing briefly before continuing, slower this time. zach could feel his body reacting in ways he knew it shouldn’t. his chest tightened, and he bit down on his bottom lip, trying to keep himself grounded as warmth pooled low in his stomach.

then you let out a soft, unintentional moan—a mix of pain and relief as his fingers brushed over a particularly tender spot. the sound, quiet and fleeting, sent a chill through him. he froze, inhaling sharply, his hands momentarily still against your side.

your eyes fluttered open, hazy with the remnants of drowsiness. “i’m sorry,” zach murmured, his voice tight.

concern crosses your features as you began to sit up. “zach, it’s fine,” you said, misinterpreting his sudden apology. “it didn’t hurt. i promise.”

but that wasn’t it. not at all.

no, zach wasn’t thinking about the gel, the bruise, or even the fact that he might’ve applied too much pressure. his thoughts had plunged into dangerous territory, spiraling with images he couldn’t suppress.

he was imagining you making that sound again—but for entirely different reasons. how your breathless moans might sound against his ear as you writhed beneath him, your body arching into his as you begged for him to let you cum.

how you might look with your face pressed into the pillows, gripping the sheets, gasping his name in broken cries as he pounded relentlessly inside you from behind, squeezing tightly around him, his hands gripping your hips firmly but gently, guiding you to him.

zach blinked, forcing himself back to the present, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. he dragged a hand through his hair, quickly standing up and mumbling something about needing a drink of water, leaving you puzzled and slightly concerned as he practically fled to the kitchen.

you stood up, muttering a low curse under your breath as the ache in your side flared. despite the pain, you followed him into the kitchen, determined to figure out what was wrong.

“zach,” you called softly, your voice breaking the quiet. he didn’t turn, his back to you, shoulders tense as he stared down at the empty glass in his hands.

stepping closer, you positioned yourself in front of him, standing just beneath his gaze. even then, he refused to look at you, his jaw clenched tightly.

“zach,” you repeated, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, cupping it to force his eyes to meet yours. the warmth of your touch was almost unbearable for him.

“don’t—” he mumbled, voice low and strained, his gaze flickering to the side as if avoiding yours could somehow mask the turmoil written all over his face.

but you saw it anyway—guilt. raw and unfiltered, pooling in his dark eyes and spilling over in the form of unshed tears.

“zach, what is it?” you asked, your voice soft, barely above a whisper in the still air.

he blinked hard, his breathing uneven as he struggled to hold himself together. the weight of his thoughts pressed heavily on his chest. you trusted him, leaned on him when you were in pain, and here he was, betraying that trust in the worst way—fantasizing about you.

the images haunted him. he couldn’t stop the shameful loop of memories from late nights in his dorm, where he would close his eyes and imagine you in ways he couldn’t admit aloud. he would picture you on top of him, trying to adjust to his size, your brows furrowed and lips parted in quiet gasps. how you might bite your lip to stifle your moans, only to collapse onto his chest when you came undone, breathless and trembling.

but those were just fantasies, fleeting and far removed from reality. they weren’t supposed to bleed into a moment like this—when you were hurt, vulnerable, and looking at him with those wide, concerned eyes.

he squeezed his eyes shut, his voice barely audible. “you were hurt because of me, and i—i can’t stop thinking about…” he trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to physically dispel the thoughts. “it’s not right. i’m not right.”

you frowned, your thumb brushing against his cheek in a soothing gesture. “zach, talk to me. what’s going on?”

he hesitated, his chest rising and falling as he wrestled with himself, unsure if he could say the words that would change everything.

“hey.” your voice was firm yet gentle, cutting through the silence. zach’s eyes opened, hesitantly meeting yours.

“it’s me,” you said, your tone softening. “you can tell me anything, zach. you know that.”

he chewed the inside of his cheek, his jaw tightening as he tried to muster the courage to speak. “i’m so sorry, y/n,” he began, voice heavy with guilt. “i feel awful about what happened today—about you getting hurt. and then you’re here, trusting me to help you, and i’m…” he trailed off, sighing deeply as he covered his eyes with his hand. “i’m trying so hard to control myself, and it’s not okay.”

your brows furrowed as you processed his words, trying to piece together what he meant. the hesitation in his voice, the way he avoided your gaze—it all felt so unlike him.

then, as your eyes flickered downward, you noticed it. the unmistakable bulge in the fabric of his sweats. your breath hitched in realization, a soft gasp escaping your lips before you could stop it.

zach’s hand remained firmly over his eyes, his posture rigid as if bracing himself for your reaction. the room felt impossibly still, the weight of the unspoken hanging heavy in the air.

you reached up, your fingers wrapping gently around his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. zach resisted for a moment, but when he finally let you guide him, his eyes met yours—hesitant, filled with embarrassment.

you offered him a small, reassuring smile, one that melted the tension in his features ever so slightly. without a word, you leaned in, your lips brushing softly against his in a kiss that was both hesitant and deliberate.

his brows furrowed, his body frozen for a split second, caught off guard by your sudden boldness. but then, as if a switch flipped, he responded, his hands instinctively finding your face. his touch was firm yet gentle, cradling you as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

it was tender and charged all at once, a silent confession spilling between you both without the need for words. the kitchen, the guilt, the tension—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in the moment you hadn’t realized both been waiting for.

your small hands gripped the sides of his sweater near his waist, anchoring yourself to him as his tongue slipped into your mouth without warning. the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a soft gasp escaping your lips. every movement—every stroke of his tongue against yours, every firm tug of your hair—set your senses on fire, unraveling emotions you’d worked so hard to bury.

of course you liked zach.

you always had.

the realization hit you like a flood, overwhelming and undeniable. you had tucked those feelings deep into the corners of your heart, afraid of what would happen if zach ever found out. you couldn’t bear the thought of ruining what you had. but the truth was simple: your heart had always been his.

you loved him.

zach pulled back suddenly, breaking the kiss as both of you panted for air. his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and ragged. “wait, wait—” he murmured, his voice low and unsteady.

you whimpered softly, a needy sound you didn’t mean to let out and his cock twitched at it. “zach, please,” you whispered, desperate to feel his lips on yours again, the taste of him still lingering.

he smiled softly, brushing a quick kiss against your lips that left you craving more. “i know, m’sorry, baby,” he murmured.

the nickname made your stomach flutter, sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the cozy cabin. you sighed, tilting your head to look up at him, waiting for the words that you knew were coming.

zach’s face was conflicted, his brows drawn together as he avoided your gaze for a moment. “i can’t believe i’m saying this… but we can’t tonight,” he admitted, chewing on his bottom lip in that pained way he did when he was struggling with something.

you groaned softly, the disappointment evident in your expression. your eyes softened as you saw the genuine concern etched into his face.

“i don’t want to hurt you even more,” he continued, his hand brushing lightly against your side. “and it could make your injury worse.”

“zach,” you whined, leaning your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. “we’ll be careful,” you pleaded, your voice soft and hopeful.

you tilted your head back up, your big, pleading eyes locking with his. you knew exactly the effect they had on him, and for a second, you saw him falter. his jaw tightened as he exhaled a shaky breath, clearly battling with himself.

zach let out a defeated sigh, his resolve crumbling as he crouched down and effortlessly lifted your legs around his waist. the sudden motion made you giggle, clinging to him instinctively. “i win,” you teased breathlessly, a triumphant grin spreading across your lips.

his only response was a sly smirk before pinching your ass, making you squeal in surprise. “careful, or i might change my mind,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he carried you to the bed.

the soft mattress welcomed you as he laid you down gently, the warm glow of the electric fireplace casting flickering shadows across the room. the heat of the moment mirrored the cozy warmth surrounding you both.

zach slid between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he settled there, his aching length pressing against you in a way that made your heart race. neither of you hesitated—your lips collided in a fervent kiss, all hunger and passion, as if this moment had been years in the making. which it was.

your fingers found their way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer. his lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, each kiss deeper, more intoxicating, than the last. it felt as if the rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you in the crackling warmth of the cabin.

“god, you have no idea how much i’ve wanted this,” zach murmurs against your lips, his voice a mix of hunger and longing. your response is a soft moan, quiet but fervent, that makes him press even closer.

he trails a series of slow, teasing kisses down your neck, each nip and suck prompting a sweet, aching arch from your body—until a sudden twinge in your side makes you wince. zach notices immediately, pulling back, concern flooding his eyes. “you okay?”

you nod, forcing a soft smile while trying to mask the lingering pain. you’ve waited too long for this moment and the last thing you want is for him to stop.

he studies you for a second, as if assessing whether you’re truly good, then sits back on his legs. “alright,” he says, voice calm but resolute, “this is how it’s gonna go, then. you can’t move. at all.”

your brows draw together, half-expecting him to crack a grin. but he doesn’t. he’s serious, his gaze unwavering.

“if you move,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, “or try to, i’ll stop.”

you swallow, the weight of his words and the gentle authority in his tone sending a surge of arousal low into your belly. you bite the inside of your cheek, eyes fixed on him, already imagining how you’ll manage to keep still under his touch.

“okay,” you whisper, voice steady but laced with anticipation.

zach’s fingertips skimmed over the outside of your closed thighs, his touch feather-light yet deliberate, as if savoring the moment before taking it further. you watched him through half-lidded eyes, heart thrumming in your chest. with patient care, he began to slide your pajama pants down, revealing your baby blue lace underwear.

his throat worked over a hard swallow as he took you in, jaw clenching and pulse thrumming hot beneath his skin. he could feel himself respond immediately—his cock straining against the softness of his sweats. you saw the way his eyes darkened, how that gentle composure threatened to unravel.

without a word, he eased the lace down as well, leaving you bare before him. instinctively, you kept your thighs pressed together, a final barrier of modesty even as your cheeks warmed. he paused, taking in the sight—the subtle flush on your skin—letting the tension in the air stretch taut.

his gaze flickered up to yours, intense and wordless, the warm glow of the fireplace painting both of you in golden hues that made everything feel dreamy and far removed from the outside world.

“perfect,” he whispered, the single word washing over you, making your skin prickle with a delicious heat. it was as if he saw you in a new light—something delicate and cherished. you felt the flush rise all the way from your chest to your cheeks.

he worked on the buttons of your top with gentle care, careful not to brush too roughly near your bruise. his eyes softened the moment the fabric parted, revealing the tender, discolored skin along your ribs. it was more than just concern written in his features—there was affection, regret, and a silent promise to be gentle.

before you could protest or reassure him, his head dipped down, pressing a series of soft, reverent kisses to the bruise as he eased the top off you, leaving you bare. you shivered under the weight of his tenderness, the careful attention making you feel impossibly close to him.

his fingers drifted lower along your navel, the sensitive skin prickling under his touch. he nuzzled his head beneath your jaw, encouraging you to tilt your head and grant him better access as he breathed slowly, evenly, his warm breath fanning over your throat. just as you began to surrender to the sensation of his lips on your neck, he slipped his hand further down, exploring the softness between your legs.

the first gentle slide of his fingertips through your slick folds made your jaw slacken, a quiet gasp escaping. gathering your wetness, he began to trace slow, deliberate shapes over your clit, drawing you into a heady rhythm that set every nerve alight. your body instinctively wanted to rise to meet his touch, but each time your hips started to rock forward, he’d slow his pace, lifting his gaze to give you a knowing, pointed look—reminding you of your earlier agreement.

the unspoken rule was clear: no moving. you had to let him lead, to trust him completely. caught between sweet frustration and delicious anticipation, you let out a shaky breath and let him guide your pleasure, your heart pounding in your ears.

“shit—you’re soaking,” zach groaned, voice low and strained as he picked up the pace of his fingers. each curl and slide drew out soft, breathy whimpers that spilled from your parted lips. he wore a look of intense concentration, as though memorizing every sound you made.

without warning, his middle finger pressed at your entrance before slowly sinking in, earning a strangled moan that made him nuzzle deeper into your neck. “god,” he breathed, voice muffled against your skin, “you feel so good.” you tightened around him reflexively, and he groaned, the vibration of his voice sending sparks along your spine.

straightening up, he shifted to sit back on his legs, changing the angle and giving himself a better view. he guided your knee down flat against the mattress, not just for his eyes but to ensure you couldn’t easily arch into his touch. a high, keening moan tore from your throat as he curled his finger inside you, hitting that perfect spot that sent tremors through your thighs.

you fought the urge to lift your hips, remembering his warning. still, your body trembled with the need to move, to push deeper into that intoxicating sensation. zach noticed—how could he not?—and it fueled the dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. he knew you were on the edge, knew how badly you wanted to give in.

meanwhile, his own restraint was wearing thin. he was hard—achingly so—and the slow, deliberate way you clenched around his finger nearly did him in. but he held back and added a second finger, pulling a sharp moan from you. if you couldn’t keep still now, how could you handle all of him inside you? this was a test of sorts, a delicious torment, and he was savoring every second.

he felt the way you clenched around his fingers, each flutter and squeeze like a plea for release. your hand gripped his wrist, desperate and trembling, but his pace never wavered. “gonna cum for me, angel?” he asked, voice heavy with anticipation.

you nodded frantically, wordless cries tumbling past your lips as he kept hitting that perfect spot inside you. the pressure built swiftly, stealing your breath, until you shattered around him. your vision went white, the world narrowing down to nothing but the pleasure he wrung from your body.

he guided you through it, not stopping until your muscles started to twitch with the first hints of overstimulation. finally, he slowed, easing you down until your body relaxed beneath him, trembling and sated.

with deliberate slowness, he withdrew his fingers, eyes locked on yours. you watched as he brought them to his mouth, his gaze never leaving your face. he sucked on the digits, tasting you the way he’d imagined a thousand times, letting out a deep, appreciative groan. the warmth of his breath on your skin, the soft glow around you both—everything felt charged and intimate, humming with the understanding that nothing would be the same between you again.

zach tugged his sweatshirt off in one smooth, hurried motion, the fabric barely brushing his skin before it landed somewhere on the floor. the urgency in his movements was unmistakable—he was desperate to feel you against him again. every nerve in his body was alight, the ache of wanting you growing more intense by the second.

with a quick push, he lowered his sweatpants and boxers together, freeing himself in one swift motion. the sight of him made your pulse stumble. he was huge—imposingly so—and the thought of taking him in had your breath catching in your throat. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but the widening of your eyes gave you away.

zach noticed. a hint of a smirk ghosted his lips as he settled himself between your thighs, his length resting hot and heavy against your abdomen. leaning down, he caught your mouth in a kiss that was both tender and all-consuming, as if he needed to show you how much he wanted you, how badly he craved this moment with you.

“it’s okay, baby,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and reassuring. “we’ll make it fit.” he pulled back slightly, just enough to watch your face as he guided his tip to your entrance. he gave himself a few slow pumps, as though trying to ease the ache and calm the racing of his own heartbeat.

your breath caught again, excitement and nervous anticipation mingling as he hovered there, every second swelling with tension and promise.

he pressed forward slowly, a careful, deliberate push that drew a ragged gasp from both of you. his forehead hovered just above yours, the soft brush of your lips more an exchange of breath than a kiss, and you tangled your fingers into his hair, gripping gently as he eased himself deeper. small, shallow strokes let you stretch around him, adjusting inch by inch.

your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the dull ache that signaled your body opening to him. he paused when he was fully sheathed, giving you time to accommodate his size. your breath caught as his pelvis brushed against your clit, sparking a low moan from your chest. then he pulled back just enough, pushing forward again to repeat the motion, sending soft ripples of pleasure through you. each gentle thrust replaced pain with gathering warmth, and you felt your body relaxing, welcoming him fully as a quiet whimper escaped your throat.

soon, the discomfort faded entirely, leaving only the sweet, humming pleasure of his movements. once he sensed the tension melt from your muscles, he began a steady, more confident rhythm. a subtle shift in angle, and before long, he had your legs wrapped around his waist, granting him deeper access. the pace picked up, each thrust punctuated by the soft slap of skin and echoed moans that drifted through the room.

you couldn’t hold back a curse at the intensity of it all—his body pressed to yours, filling you so completely, his breathing mixing with yours in frantic, needy staccato. it was raw and intoxicating, the two of you lost in the moment, in each other.

“mm, s’ so deep,” you whimpered, voice catching as you glanced down between your bodies. the sight of him disappearing into you with each thrust made your stomach flutter, your walls gripping him tightly.

zach’s breathing turned ragged, trying to maintain enough control to keep you safe and comfortable. but the temptation was too strong, and he gave a particularly sharp thrust, testing your reaction. you yelped, not in pain but in startled pleasure, and he felt you clench around him in response. encouraged, he repeated it until you were left hiccuping between sobs of bliss, every stroke drawing you closer to that sweet oblivion.

“i know, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with need. leaning down, he braced himself and brought his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. he stroked firm, fast circles, determined to send you over the edge first. your nails raked along his shoulders, your breath hitching with each spiral of sensation. the coil in your belly tightened, ready to snap, as he coaxed you closer and closer toward that shattering release.

“—zach,” you warned, voice thin and strained. his response was a low, desperate moan, fingers and hips working in tandem, never giving you a moment’s respite. every thrust felt deeper than the last, his fingertips circling that swollen, sensitive spot until you were on the verge of unraveling completely.

“c’mon, baby,” he coaxed, voice rough and urgent. “soak me. i wanna feel it.” his pace quickened, hips snapping forward, and you gasped as a wave of pleasure hit you hard and fast. your walls clamped down around him, body arching, a silent scream caught in your throat as you were hurled headfirst into bliss.

zach kept moving, guiding you through the aftershocks, his cock dragging through your pulsing muscles as you trembled beneath him. your moans tumbled into whimpers, every nerve still singing with overstimulation. your fingers curled into his shoulders, breath coming in ragged gasps. “please cum inside me,” you begged, voice shaky and raw, desperate to feel him follow you into that world of sensation.

you felt him stiffen, his rhythm faltering as he pressed closer, every breath hot against your ear. with a low, guttural moan, he finally let go, hips rolling gently as he filled you, warmth spreading with each soft pulse. you could feel it, the tension draining from his body, leaving both of you weightless and sated.

his forehead dipped into the crook of your neck, lips pressing languid, grateful kisses against your skin. he was careful with his weight, mindful of your injury and the tenderness in your body, as both of you lingered in the lingering glow. your breaths intermingled, still coming in soft, uneven gasps as you drifted down from that blissful high.

after a moment, he slowly pulled out, making you both hiss quietly at the sensitivity. he rolled onto his side, immediately reaching for you and covering both of your cooling bodies with the duvet. you shifted to face him, still a little breathless, your eyes meeting as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“hi,” you managed, voice husky and soft, a small, contented smile curving your lips.

a quiet laugh escaped him, his arm moving soothingly up and down your back. “hey,” he replied, voice deep and warm, as if speaking in a secret language only the two of you understood.

“i don’t think i told you this earlier but…” you begin, voice soft and cautious as you search for the right words. “i’m all in, zach.” your heart is pounding in your ears, and you’re pretty sure he can feel it where he’s pressed close to you under the duvet.

zach’s eyes soften, a gentle smile curving his lips. the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes gives away his relief. you draw a shaky breath, forging ahead. “i feel like you know you’ve always been it for me. or even if you didn’t, i did. you’re my endgame.”

you’re watching him carefully, looking for any flicker of doubt or hesitation, but all you see is the same warmth and affection you’ve been craving for years.

he doesn’t say a word at first, just leans in and kisses you—slow and deliberate, a silent promise pressed softly into your lips. then he moves along your cheek, brushing your skin with tender pecks, and keeps going until you’re giggling, trying to squirm away from his playful assault of affection.

when he finally pulls back, both of you breathless with laughter, he meets your gaze head-on. “i’ve always loved you, y/n,” he says, voice steady and sure. “you’re it for me.”

your heart swells, and you think you’ve never been happier than in this very moment, wrapped up in his arms, secure in the certainty of what comes next.

for the rest of the night, you and zach drifted in and out of conversation—those familiar, meandering chats that never really needed a point—punctuated by soft laughter and sweet nothings murmured into the darkness. in the quiet spaces, you made love again and again, as if making up for all the time lost.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

the next morning, you woke to find the bed empty. you stretched, the slight ache in your side a warm reminder of the day before. slipping into zach’s sweater and a pair of sleep shorts, you followed the glow of holiday lights out of the bedroom. as you reached the upstairs landing, your eyes widened at the transformation: the entire cabin, from the top floor down, was strung with festive garlands, sparkling ornaments, and twinkling lights.

a fond smile curved on your lips as you descended the stairs, drawn toward the kitchen by soft clinks and muffled curses. rounding the corner, you spotted zach at the stove, his back to you, clearly wrestling with some culinary experiment. “morning,” you said, leaning your elbows on the island.

he turned quickly, an anxious frown on his face. “did i wake you?” he asked, only to relax when you shook your head. you slipped behind the island to join him, his arms sliding around your waist as you took in the sight of eggs and batter, a haphazard attempt at breakfast. “wanted to surprise you,” he murmured into your hair. you giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

“good morning, baby,” zach said softly, smiling down at you.

just then, the front door swung open. in came both sets of parents and a handful of siblings, chatter and laughter echoing off the wood-paneled walls. “hello, hello!” your mom’s voice rang out. before you and zach could step apart or even explain yourselves, she rounded the corner into the kitchen. the scene she found: zach nuzzling your neck, you murmuring about how sweet he was being, both of you bathed in the soft glow of holiday lights.

you froze, cheeks flushing, while zach’s arms tightened protectively around you. your families, already grinning from the doorway, seemed more than pleased to discover the truth you’d both been too shy to admit—until now.

“alright, i called it! everyone cough it up!” avery, zach’s little sister, crowed triumphantly. your families groaned in unison, each one reluctantly digging into their pockets to hand over five dollars. avery quickly amassed thirty bucks in her palm, grinning from ear to ear.

you and zach exchanged a look, trying and failing to stifle your laughter before pulling apart and greeting everyone properly. you embraced each of them in turn, still a bit stunned to see them all here a day early. the cabin brimmed with the scent of pine, hot chocolate, and something baking in the oven—warmth and comfort encapsulated in one cozy scene.

for the remainder of your winter break, you and zach reveled in that feeling of family and togetherness. your days filled with laughter echoing off the wooden walls, good-natured bickering with siblings over board games, and playful teasing from your parents that had both of you blushing more than once. above all, there was the gentle thrill of reaching for zach’s hand under the table, catching his eye across the room, and feeling love wrapped around you like a warm blanket against the cold outside.

#⋆ ˚𝐚𝐫𝐢𝜗𝜚writes #drew starkey #zach maclaren #rafe cameron #zach maclaren x reader #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x y/n #zach maclaren x y/n #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey smut #Spotify

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screampied · 4 months ago

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thoughts on fireman toji who breeds you? 🤩

firefighter toji 😵‍💫😵‍💫

he breeds us before every emergency dispatch call he gets from a civilian—keeps his heavy equipment on too. firefighter toji manspreads as you ride him, his weighty gear makes all kinds of sounds as he’s slamming you back into him. he’d definitely fuck you on his truck, doesn’t care. his firefighter hat’s slightly tilted ‘n cocked to the side with his toughly made pants slinging down his thighs. says how fucking you gives him extra stamina and “energy” to help him save more lives. firefighter toji’s got such a beefy body, thick thighs and an even thicker bulge. snickers every time he sees you struggling to take his cock, smacks your ass and telling you to hurry up and make him cum before you make him late. he’s not satisfied until you’re plugged fully with cum—so much to where it’s spilling down your thighs, even dripping a bit on his uniform. he swipes up the mess with his gloves, filthily licking them clean before shoving them right into your mouth. firefighter toji would def use petnames like ‘sugar’ or ‘baby doll’ or even ‘pumpkin’ and makes sure to visit your cozy apartment every often on his break. always complains about your frequent fire hazards while stuffing you full on the daily. his cum is your own personal little salary he gifts you.

firefighter toji is kinda crazy though. he’d def fuck you out your halfway cracked open window . . perfect if you live high stories up just so the little ants of people near the lower ground can see your twisted facial expressions. your waist would be gripped on tight by his gloved hands and he dangles you out the window and holds you tight. “good girl. jus don’t look down,” he’d gruff with a sly smile. he won’t drop you, probably.

#✰ミ݁ ׅ ࣪ 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆.#LOLLL THIS GOT SOLONG BYE #fucking out the window is crazy 👎🏽👎🏽 need him #toji smut #toji x reader

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dmitriene · 4 months ago

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simon riley likes to come home, to have a place of his own, now, is never a bad memories, but a place he runs to, through the bullets, through the storms, traffic jams and fatigue in his sulken eyes, just to be back in the early morning, to the sight of your sluggish form, standing in some pajamas, contained of his clothes that left in the home, your baby daughter on your hip, cooing something while gazing around.

to be welcomed by your smudgy kisses, your nose rubbing against his stubbled cheek, grimy balaclava long ago thrown away on the shoe cabinet, as his baby girl nuzzles against him next, small, chubby grabby hands reaching to squeeze onto his gear, as she nudges her head under his jaw, cooing and giggling, bringing a weary smile to his rugged face, as simon scoops you two closer.

to settle, in the cozy warmth of the house he knows will always wait for him, with the early breakfast you cook, while simon bounces his little daughter on his knee, crooning at her with little questions she can't yet answer properly, but can babble loudly when he asks her if she was taking care of her mommy and the house, as you chuckle from the kitchen, peering from your shoulder at them two.

to smoke at the terrace of the house, seating himself on the wickered, wooden chair with soft pillows, letting his weight sag heavily back, dressed in some comfortable, cotton shirt and pajama pants, clean, there's no loud noises outside, gunshots, screams in the comms, a serene rustle of trees and setting sun, when you join him outside, baby asleep in her crib, as you settle yourself on simon's lap, letting his heavy hand wrap around you, tugging tight against his sturdy chest.

the tart, pungent scent of tobacco, the shower gel smell his body still holds, mingled with his musk, it's all about your husband finally home, his calloused hand rubbing against the curves of your body he missed so much, trailing to your legs, beneath the fabric of his shirt you wear, to squeeze at the bare skin, sinking his fingers needily, grumbling through curling smoke about how much he missed you.

he doesn't let's you sleep properly the first night he came back, and you can't, not with his heavy cock pummeling wetly in and out of your soppy cunt, painfully tight around him, making him huff and whine broken groans in the juncture of your neck, nuzzling into your sweaty skin with delicate kisses and hungry nibbles, holding you close to him, hands splayed over the length of your spine, as you muffle your pitchy moans in his scarred skin, chest against chest, your hearts thumping in unison.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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sugudolle · 4 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ 18+ CONTENT ⊹ jason todd x fem!reader. reader wears glasses. jason is a big tease. condescension. dry humping. making out on his bike. calling you princess + pretty girl

jason letting out a big yawn as he finally makes it back to the parking lot under your cozy, warm shared apartment, the sky already dark above him—his energy suddenly returning in full as you pounce on his broad back while he’s putting his kick stand down, hanging off your big strong boyfriend’s frame as his eyes darken under his mask, still in his red hood gear.

jason tilting his head and lowly going ‘yeah?’ as he leans against his bike, the feeling of his gloved hands holding you in his lap by your hips being your breaking point after a whole day of going jasonless—no kisses, no playing with his pretty hair or grabbing him by his cheeks every 2 seconds to place an adoring smooch on his lips, you need him now—it hasn’t even been five minutes since he came back from his night patrol and a string of saliva is already connecting the two of your lips as you’re leaning in to kiss him again while straddling his lap, sitting on those firm, well toned thighs of his.

jason playfully stealing and wearing your glasses as he grabs you by the hips and presses you down on him to grind harder on his dick, making you feel how hard you made him—soft little pants falling from your pretty, swollen lips in a post makeout daze while he chuckles adoringly at your cute, now squinty in confusion, face.

“awww can’t see? look at you chasing my lips,” he teases, “greedy baby.” jason strokes his hands up and down your sides and you pout, making grabby hands at him in desperate attempts to drag him closer by the chest of his compression shirt.

“pfft ya missed.” his deep chuckle reverberates through you as you grumble, still squinting, when your lips clumsily land on his cheek and he brings you in for a sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

“think that’s what you meant to do, yeah pretty girl?”

jason gently putting your glasses back on your face, he wants you to get a good view of what he’s doing to you after all, but not without a mocking whisper of “my poor baby. i’m so mean aren’t i?” and you whine in agreement, lightly bopping his firm chest. “haha sorry sorry. you get wet so fast it’s cute. been so needy for me all day, huh? just want me to hurry up and fuck you already?”

“yeah, you like the sound of that?” he squeezes your hips with a laugh as you moan softly and enthusiastically rub yourself faster against his big bulge through the rough fabric of his cargos, his breath hitching and grazing your neck, pressing soft kisses on it here and there while his hard, thick cock rubs against your soaked panties.

“don’t worry princess, i’ll take good care of you tonight.”

#for my girlies with glasses ♡#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd smut #dc x reader #dc smut #dc fanfic #jason todd fanfiction

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arpicityandneed · 1 month ago

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Congratulations on 100! Also-- gradschool apps can be draining, please make sure you're taking care of you! We care about you <3

For your 100 prompts, I'd like to request 3 or 10 with Bucky? But I'm excited to see everything and anything you do!

Thank you, as always, for sharing your work and congratulations again!

This was so sweet omg ♡ I really enjoy writing on tumblr because of the interactions I can have with readers like you. Thank you for the support, it really means a lot cause these applications child...

Bucky (#3 fully clothed x stark naked)

18+ f!reader. Avengers!Bucky. Creampie. Light spanking. Daddy kink. Established relationship.

He punched in the code to his rooms at Stark Tower with a silent thank you to that asshole for making the technology whisper quiet. He frequently came back from missions in the dead of night and never wanted to wake you accidentally. He abandoned his bag at the entry way and crept deeper into the modern space moving without a sound until he reached the master bedroom.

Inside he found you sleeping in his bed, naked and so cozy it mended his fractured heart all over again. You slept deeply, like you knew down to your bones nothing could touch you without incurring his wrath.

His woman.

He crouched beside you and took a moment to just look at you. The slope of your cheek bones, the curve of your jaw, the little pout of your lips. Every inch of your body was bare to him with such trust it made him hard. He couldn't resist brushing his lips against yours and smiled as you woke up with a sleepy murmur of his name.

"Missed you doll. C'mere." He tugged you into his arms easily, your soft body pressed against his tactical gear. The dark grey and gold of his arm glinted in the low light of the room as he grabbed your ass cheek and pulled you closer- guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hm, missed me real bad didn't you baby?" You blinked awake as you felt his erection pressed against your core, smiling and taking in his handsome features. "Hey." You mumbled softly before kissing him properly this time.

"I want you just like this, soft and sweet just for me." Bucky was lost, hands roaming over your body like he couldn't settle for just one touch.

"Then have me, Bucky, you don't gotta ask twice." You smiled at the way his eyes lit up, a small squeak escaping you were lifted by one bionic arm. His other hand went to his belt buckle. He didn't bother with the rest of the gear, only taking out his cock and dragging it through your folds- groaning when he felt how wet you were.

"Were you-?" His eyes shot to yours, hopeful.

"How else do I pass the time while I'm waitin' on you? Get's lonely at night in this big bed without you, Sarge- fuck!" You couldn't focus on finishing your teasing when the blunt head of him was pressing into you. Inch after thick inch filled you until you were trembling in his lap, rocking your hips and rubbing yourself against him like a bitch in heat.

"Then I expect this, warm welcome, fucking hell-" He growled biting down on your shoulder as he tighten his arm around your waist. "Every time I come home."

"Anything, just come home to me." You promised, feeling him throb inside you. Somehow it was the tender confessions that seemed to bring out his urge to ruin you.

"Anything?" His voice was low, heavy with intention as he planted his feet firmly.

"Anything, baby. Anything you want." You nodded and kisses his nose, your last coherent action before he used his arm to hold you still- fucking his fat cock up into your drenched heat again and again until you were dizzy with need.

"Gonna let me use you? Whenever I want? However I want?" Bucky was feral, his flesh hand slapping your ass when you were too fucked out to answer quick enough.

"Yes!" You cried out as you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix wetly as he buried himself balls deep inside you.

"Tell me why. Say it." He growled in your ear, smirking when he felt your nails try to scratch at his shoulders through his kevlar. Your clit was grinding against his fingers before you remembered his hand moving.

"Love you!" You squealed as he pounded you through an orgasm so forceful you saw stars.

"That's right baby, louder." He groaned, losing his rhythm as he got close. "Tell me again, fuck."

"Love you, daddy," you slurred, drunk on his cock and the orgasm that drenched his shaft.

"That's just unfair-" Your fluttering walls were soaked in his seed as he grinded up into you, cradling you against his chest and kissing your temple.

"But I love you too doll."

#bucky #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #hundred follower event ☆#asks ☆#bucky ☆#f!reader #mina writes ☆

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northgazaupdates · 2 months ago

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Winter is coming❄️🌬️🌨️

For many of us, that means thick sweaters, puffy jackets, and cozy nights indoors under warm blankets.

Sadly, this is not the case for our friends in Gaza. Especially for baby Ayla, her mother Bashaer, grandmother Intisar, and young aunts and uncles.

This is baby Ayla

Ayla’s father Omar was martyred before she was born, and she and her mother went to live with her grandmother Intisar, who has several other children to support.

Soon after, Intisar’s home was destroyed by the occupation. The whole family was displaced. They started living in a tent, which left them exposed to the elements and pests and without privacy. Here, baby Ayla could barely have her picture taken before becoming soaked with cold rain.

Now, their tent has been destroyed by heavy rain. They are in dire need of funds for a new tent, as well as blankets and winter clothing, especially for little Ayla. They also still desperately need money for food and water.

Many people displaced people in Gaza were martyred last year due to the cold, but especially young children like Ayla. Ayla was not born during the coldest months, and she has no winter clothes. She desperately needs warm, weather-resistant clothing for the winter, or she may freeze to death.

Ayla’s life is precious. She is a sweet little baby who deserves so much more than this world of suffering. Please help protect her life and provide her family with basic necessities.

Ayla’s family’s campaign has been vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi, and is listed on line 231 of their list of verified fundraisers.

If you will have a warm home and winter gear this winter, please send a little assistance to a family who will not. Even a small donation has a large impact.

Reblog this post, visit Bashaer’s blog @bshaeromars-blog and paste this link to share the campaign https://gofund.me/c0fb7b5f

Thank you🩵🩷

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dragon-chica · 2 months ago

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Cryptid Hunting - Eddie & Venom x Reader

Fandom: Marvel / Venom

Dear gods it's been a long time since I wrote but this duo? marry me.

You have a love for monsters and stories, folklore and cryptozoology especially the more interesting creatures, in particular.

Eddie once had asked you if you really believe in all those stories, legends and cryptids and folklore. He found them interesting and entertaining, especially some of your favorites you shared with him, but didn't consider a lot on the subject.

"Babe, your body contains an alien slime that cured your cancer and eats your ass. This is just a cursed child that flew out a chimney and haunts New Jersey. No offense, Venom, honey."

"NONE TAKEN."

"That's fair."

You had always wanted to try cryptid hunting just for fun, but could never convince anyone to join you for a night of tomfuckery in a creepy area with legends and rumors.

Eddie though, had no excuse.

Your reasoning was, he's a journalist, he should investigate this story, spinning your laptop around with an article on a chosen cryptid for him to look at while you also read about it from one of your cryptozoology and folklore books.

Your second reason was, he's your boyfriend and "Please, please, please, please baby?"

Which of course he could never say no to, not that it helps that Venom is also now pleading along with you.

"YES EDDIE, PRETTY PLEASE? WE CAN FIND IT AND EAT IT. AN EXOTIC SNACK, AND WE WILL IMPRESS THEM."

Both his lovers pleading for him to do something? He's a lovestruck sucker as is, even if it is walking around like a couple of dumbasses in the dark. He's done weirder.

You honestly didn't actually expect him to agree though, and are ecstatic that he does.

Your excitement and the big kiss on his cheek is already worth it he thinks.

"SEE EDDIE? WE ARE AMAZING PARTNERS. MORE CRYPTIDS AND MORE KISSES."

You make a day out of it, a roadtrip.

With snacks. Lots of snacks, and one guy at a gas station that was just awful. "HE DIDN'T TASTE VERY GOOD EITHER."

All in all, Eddie was having a good day. Time off spent with his favorite beings, a scenic drive, wearing shoes. Not really expecting much of the "cryptid hunt" besides walking around in the dark and talking to the woods like ghosthunters.

But you and Venom were hyped, as soon as you parked in a secluded area and geared up with flashlights and a video camera, he didn't know who was more excited.

Venom was hovering over his shoulder, head whipping around so much he was spinning Eddie as he went, following you "to a good spot."

You sat in the woods for awhile together waiting for it to get dark, wrapped in a cozy hoodie and leaning against Eddie while reading to him different stories from one of your cryptid books.

When darkness settled around you and something could be heard walking through the brush, you flashlight spun toward it.

"DO NOT WORRY MORSEL, WE ARE THE LETHAL PROTECTOR. YOU ARE SAFE."

Eddie did not expect, at the sound of something moving closer in the woods, for Venom to jump out of him, and into you. Backing up with black good around your hand now shaking with the beam towards it.

"What the hell V?" he whisper shouted while your other hand covered your mouth trying to hide a snicker.

"THAT'S ENOUGH HUNTING FOR TONIGHT."

A weird trilling sound came for the forest and Venom encased you, going full form and grabbing Eddie over your shoulder before sprinting back to the card and tossing him inside.

Your flashlights, heavy duty and bought just for this, were long forgotten while multiple tentacles rummaged around Eddie before finding the keys and slamming them in the ignition.

"What's wrong V? i thought you wanted to eat a cryptid for me?"

You try to soothe and pet him while Eddie gets his bearings again.

"NOT HUNGRY. THE UGLY MAN GAVE US INDIGESTION. BESIDES, EDDIE WAS SCARED."

"HEY!"

Eventually, against Venom's protests on Eddie being a chicken and too scared to continue, Eddie trekked back to retrieve your gear, Venom back with him and switching from full cowl to hiding inside him again while you waited in the car.

#Venom x reader #Venom imagine #Eddie Brock x reader #Eddie Brock imagine #my stuff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine

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memorabxlia · 11 days ago

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First Christmas ━ 민규

genre: fluff summary: Mingyu’s determined to make his baby’s first Christmas unforgettable warnings: est relationship, mentions parenthood, mentions christmas traditions pairing: nonidol!mingyu x fem!reader wc: 1.8k a/n: FIRST FIC FOR THE EVENT LET’S GOOO!!! I know we’re starting off a little shaky but trust me there are more to come!!! enjoy lovelies!! ♡︎♡︎ nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The house is quiet, filled only with the gentle hum of holiday music as you open the box of decorations you and Mingyu bought earlier in the week. It’s your first Christmas as a family of three, and even though your baby is too young to remember, there’s something about this holiday that feels new, magical, and deeply significant. This isn’t just another December 25th—it’s the start of a lifetime of Christmases together.

You glance over at Mingyu, who’s unfolding a tangled string of Christmas lights with the determination of a man on a mission. He’s been excited about decorating since the start of September, brainstorming ideas for the tree, the garland, even the perfect place to hang stockings. You watch, smiling, as he wrangles the lights into submission, his enthusiasm contagious.

“Mingyu, you know the baby isn’t going to remember all of this, right?” you tease, holding up a sparkling ornament shaped like a star.

He looks up with a mischievous grin. “I know, but we will,” he says, glancing over at the baby, lying in a soft blanket on the floor, gazing up at the lights in wide-eyed wonder. “And besides, look at them—they’re already enchanted.”

You can’t help but smile. Your child’s tiny hands reach up toward the glimmering lights, their eyes fixed on the sparkling colors. It’s a small moment, but you feel its weight in your heart. Mingyu settles beside you on the floor, passing you ornaments, and together you marvel at how much has changed in a single year.

“Okay, you win,” you whisper, nudging him playfully. “Let’s make this the best Christmas they’ll never remember.”

He grins, handing you a tiny reindeer ornament. “This one should go up high—so it catches the light, don’t you think?”

Laughing, you find a place on the tree for each ornament he hands you. Every now and then, Mingyu leans down to make silly faces at the baby, who giggles with delight. It’s a simple, perfect scene, one that feels like something out of a holiday movie. The two of you move in an easy rhythm, hanging ornaments and sharing soft laughter as you create a cozy holiday home for your growing family.

When the tree is fully decorated, Mingyu drags a stepladder over to string lights around the room. You watch as he hums to himself, casting quick glances at the baby to see their reaction to each new twinkle of lights. The room fills with a warm glow, transforming the space into something magical, and you realize that these are the memories you’ll treasure forever.

Later that evening, you settle into the couch together, the baby nestled between you, gazing up at the lights with sleepy eyes. Mingyu wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you sit in comfortable silence, watching the twinkling lights as a sense of contentment fills the room.

But even as you sit there, Mingyu’s eyes dart toward the small pile of gifts already collecting in the corner. You can see the gears turning in his mind, his excitement building for the next part of the holiday preparations.

“Mingyu,” you murmur, sensing his thoughts, “don’t tell me you’re already thinking about more gifts.”

He looks at you sheepishly, giving a little shrug. “I just want it to be special,” he whispers, eyes bright with an enthusiasm that you know won’t be easy to contain.

And as you share a smile, you realize this is just the beginning of the adventure he’s about to embark on, driven by the desire to make this Christmas unforgettable.

The next morning, you wake to find Mingyu already up, browsing on his phone with a look of intense concentration. You tiptoe up behind him and peek over his shoulder to see him scrolling through an online store, where dozens of stuffed animals fill the screen, each one cuter than the last.

“Oh no,” you sigh, trying to stifle a laugh. “I thought we agreed that one or two gifts would be enough.”

Mingyu turns to you, his eyes sparkling with childlike enthusiasm. “But look at this one!” He shows you a picture of a plush penguin with a tiny scarf. “Don’t you think they’d love it?”

You raise an eyebrow, barely able to hold back your smile. “Mingyu, they’re not even going to remember this Christmas. How many stuffed animals does a six-month-old really need?”

He gives a soft, playful pout. “They may not remember, but we will. Besides, I want them to have the best holiday possible, even if they’re too little to know it yet.”

You sigh—not because you’re frustrated, but because you understand him completely. This is a first for both of you: not just the baby’s first Christmas, but your first chance to pour all your love and excitement into a holiday that now feels infinitely more meaningful. Mingyu, ever the sentimental one, is fully immersed in making it magical.

“All right,” you concede, folding your arms with a soft smile. “But let’s at least set a limit, or else this room is going to look like a stuffed animal zoo by Christmas Eve.”

He laughs, holding up his hands as if surrendering. “Deal. A ‘reasonable’ number of stuffies. I’ll keep it in check. Maybe.”

But as the days go by, you quickly realize that Mingyu’s idea of “reasonable” might be different than yours. Every time you pass a shop or holiday market, he pauses, eyes catching on every tiny bear, bunny, and penguin plush. Each one seems to call out to him, whispering, “Pick me!” You can’t help but laugh at his determination.

By mid-December, a steadily growing collection of plush animals takes shape in the living room. It starts with a reindeer and a tiny polar bear. Then, one day, you come home to find a delicate penguin perched beside the baby’s crib, and you just shake your head, knowing Mingyu was responsible.

One evening, as you’re tidying up, you catch him slipping a few more toys into a closet, his face guilty but delighted.

“Mingyu,” you say, hands on your hips, “we’re going to need an intervention soon.”

He laughs, closing the closet door with a soft click. “I just…can’t help it. This is our baby’s first Christmas,” he murmurs, his voice soft with wonder. “It feels like every gift is a little piece of love I can leave behind for them.”

You sigh, leaning into his shoulder. “Just promise me we’re stopping after this one last round.”

He smiles down at you with a gleam in his eye, one that suggests he might still have a few surprises up his sleeve.

And as Christmas Eve approaches, you start to suspect that “one last round” might have been a bit too optimistic.

Christmas Eve arrives, filling the house with warmth and holiday magic. The tree glows softly, filling the room with a gentle light, and there’s a quiet excitement in the air—a feeling that something wonderful is about to happen, even though you know your baby is too young to understand.

Mingyu has been particularly animated all day, flitting in and out of rooms, fiddling with last-minute decorations, and casting frequent glances toward the closet where he’s stashed the “reasonable” collection of gifts. You recognize that look: it’s the look of a man who’s done something just slightly mischievous and can barely contain his excitement.

After dinner, with the baby settled in your lap, you finally turn to him, arching an eyebrow. “All right, Mingyu. Are you going to show me what you’ve been hiding, or are we playing Christmas hide-and-seek?”

He grins, looking almost boyish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

“Depends,” you reply, trying to suppress a laugh. “If that closet is as full as I think it is, we might need to have a talk about what ‘reasonable’ really means.”

With a slightly guilty smile, Mingyu stands up and heads to the closet, beckoning you to follow. When he opens the door, you can’t help but gasp. The closet is packed—absolutely packed—with an assortment of plush animals, rattles, soft blankets, and toys in all shapes and sizes. There’s a mountain of bears, penguins, reindeer, and rabbits, all piled together in a chaotic but undeniably adorable heap.

“Mingyu!” you exclaim, trying to sound stern but failing to keep the laughter out of your voice. “How on earth did you manage to buy all of this without me noticing?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile creeping across his face. “I…may have hidden a few things. But look! Can you imagine how cute they’ll look under the tree tomorrow morning?”

You cover your mouth, laughing at the thought. There’s something undeniably charming about the sight of this plush avalanche, each toy a little piece of his love. Seeing him now—eyes bright with excitement, utterly captivated by the holiday spirit—you can’t bring yourself to be upset. After all, this is Mingyu. He loves with his whole heart, and he always has a special way of showing it.

Together, you arrange the gifts under the tree, making small piles and positioning each plush animal with care. Mingyu takes his time, stepping back occasionally to admire his handiwork like a proud artist. When the baby wakes from a nap, you bring them over to show them the magical sight. They stare wide-eyed at the colors and shapes, their tiny fingers reaching out to touch a soft reindeer that Mingyu holds up. Their laughter fills the room, and Mingyu’s face lights up as if he’s witnessing pure magic.

“See?” he whispers. “They love it already.”

You watch him, warmth filling your chest. This isn’t just about the gifts; it’s about creating a home full of joy and love, where your child can grow up surrounded by warmth and care.

The next morning dawns softly, golden light streaming through the windows. You wake to the smell of coffee and the sight of Mingyu in the living room, arranging the presents with care. When the baby wakes, the three of you gather around the tree, sharing the wonder of Christmas morning.

One by one, you unwrap each gift. The baby giggles at the crinkling sound of wrapping paper, reaching out to touch each plush animal Mingyu hands them. Each gift is a reflection of his thoughtfulness and love, and the warmth of the morning fills you both with a quiet joy that words can’t describe.

Finally, you sit among the sea of toys, savoring the stillness. Mingyu reaches for your hand, a soft smile on his face.

“This,” he says quietly, “is the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for.”

You smile back, squeezing his hand. “And next year, there will be even more moments like this.”

As the day winds down, you and Mingyu sit together, wrapped in a blanket, talking about the future and dreaming of all the Christmases still to come.

Outside, snow begins to fall again, blanketing the world in quiet softness. And as the clock ticks closer to midnight, you close your eyes, content in the knowledge that this is only the beginning.

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suguful · 2 years ago

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ᥫ᭡ — 11:49PM with bakugo

╰➤ gender neutral , no cws

“i’d be a fucking idiot to let you come home by yourself,” katsuki’s eyes are narrowed, and he glares at the empty roads of the highway in front of him. “do y’know what time it is?”

you hum from the passenger’s seat, pressing your face deeper into the jacket katsuki had thrown into your arms earlier. with an upturned nose and rolling eyes, he’d tossed it over your lap while you got settled into the passenger’s seat. despite the sass in his actions, you accepted it with open arms. warm, you think, and distinctly smelling of heady leather and salted caramel. the heat of the car was cozy, and the added protected layer of katsuki’s jacket thawed the iciness that had taken over your hands just before.

the night air seemed to be especially chilly while you waited at the bus stop. with the biting wind and hope to spare your fingers from freezing over, you stuffed your hands in your pockets and silently lamented the slowness of late night transportation.

incessant vibrating of your phone forced your fingers out of comfortable refuge. your brows furrowed as you squinted down at the screen, and you took a moment to register the excessive notifications you’d garnered in the span of one minute. you spotted the common name attached to each of the messages, and shook your head in bemusement.

katsuki.

katsuki, who had been blowing up your phone upon returning to an empty home. following a text back updating him on your whereabouts, he asks — rather, demands — that you stay put.

soon enough, you find yourself fumbling with a seatbelt with a jacket haphazardly strewn across your legs in katsuki’s car. the heat radiating off the car’s vents make you sigh in relief, and you sink back into the familiar seat.

“thanks,” you cast a sidelong glance towards katsuki, “for picking me up, i mean.” the city lights reflect off his face, highlighting the steady slope of his nose and cheekbones. with nothing but the moon to bear witness to the two of you, you think he looks especially pretty when he’s left to be yours alone.

“yeah, whatever.” his hand falls slack on your thigh, and you feel his thumb brush against the seem of your pants.

katsuki’s scolding tone is something you’ve grown used to over the years — firm, clipped, and laced with concern hidden under layers of passive aggression. he continues to nag at you, lecturing and affectionate in the same roundabout manner he always does.

“always call me first,” he spares a glance at you, and the intensity of his gaze in the split second grips at your heart. “gotta make sure you don’t get yourself into anything stupid.”

you grasp at the hand resting on your thigh, and his fingers lace through yours.

“i’d kiss you if you weren’t driving right now.” you give his hand a firm squeeze and turn your head to face him head on.

the city lights, still illuminating his sharp features, come to accentuate the upturn of his lips. his eyes gleam in mischief, and you watch his grin widen as he pulls over. his hand is quick to unwind itself from yours to switch the gear into park.

“not driving anymore,” he turns his body fully towards you, and his hand comes to cup the back of your neck, pulling you over the console of the car. “kiss me, baby.”

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo #bakugou #katsuki #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia

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noisycowboyglitter · 5 months ago

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st4rryrain · 2 months ago

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Infamous

(Logan Howlett x Reader)

Tags: smut, fluff, fem!reader, age gap, probably ooc, worst!logan, post-deadpool x wolverine, aftercare, return of egg the cat, no proof reading ‘cause I’m lazy

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: At your apartment, you decide to watch a movie with Logan. However, Logan thinks you’re more fascinating to look at than some movie. So, he wants to show you how much he thinks so.

A/N: Part 2 of Strawberry Lip Gloss! Also, um, so sorry for the long wait. I may or may not have gotten bad writers block.

Logan sat on your couch, taking in the new environment. Your apartment was small and had one bedroom. It was cozy, warm, and pretty; a nice way to end your first date. The white, round feline, Egg, went to Logan—sitting on the armrest beside him. Egg stared at him and flicked her tail. Logan couldn’t tell if he should think it’s cute or if he should be worried for his dear life.

“She’s just getting to know you.” You said from the kitchen.

Logan stared at the cat. The cat turned her head and side eyed Logan. “I feel like my soul is being judged…”

You were heard laughing as you entered the dark living room with the tv on—bowl of popcorn in hand.

“That’s definitely what’s going on.” You sat by Logan and Egg immediately walked over Logan’s lap to sit beside you.

“Oh so now she’s ignoring me?” Logan humorously scoffed with an eyebrow raised.

You grabbed the tv remote and turned to Egg. “I can’t keep defending you, girl.”

Logan put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in. “What movie do you wanna watch, sweetheart?”

You hummed as you browsed the streaming service, the gears turning in your head. What would be something Logan would also enjoy? You didn’t want him to bore him to death.

“Um… What about…” You scrolled through the catalog of movies and shows, nothing catching your eye.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to stress about this. Just choose whatever movie you want, baby.” Logan reassured you.

“Well, yeah, but… I want you to actually enjoy it too. Not just watch it because I picked it.”

Logan slightly grinned at your eagerness to please him.

“Do you like… cheesy romance?” You asked.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “How cheesy we talking?”

You looked at him, “Like… Disney cheesy.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“Sure, I’m up for it.”

You smiled and turned back to the tv, “Have you seen…” The cursor stopped on one poster. “Enchanted?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“You’re gonna hate it… probably…”

The movie was cheesy and sweet. It perfectly captured the late 2000’s and its campiness.

“She’s acting like it’s her first time seeing a man’s chest.” Logan said as he put some popcorn into his mouth.

“Give her a break. I’m sure living in a world that’s rated PG sucked. She didn’t even know the word ‘angry’.”

“Yeah, but she’s acting like a Victorian man seeing an ankle.”

You laughed, “You probably would act the same way.”

The tv illuminated your face and created a sparkle in your eye. Despite only seeing half of your face, Logan couldn’t help but admire your features. The way you looked at the tv, the way your eyes watched with fascination, and the way your lips moved as you munched on the popcorn. To think that he had tried brushing you off when you first met him was unfathomable. The fact that he almost never got the chance to experience sitting on your couch, watching a movie, and having his arm around you was almost sickening to him.

Egg hopped off the couch, taking Logan out of his trance.

“Baby?” He muttered.

You looked at him, “Yeah?”

“Nothing… I just wanted to see that pretty face.”

Logan catches the slight blush on your cheeks. The world around you seemed to disappear. He moved the bowl from your lap to your coffee table. One of his rough fingers brushed against your cheek.

“You’re such a sweet, pretty girl…” His hand cupped your cheek.

A warmth between your legs blossomed as he leaned in.

He smirked as your noses were only a few centimeters away. “So pretty… and all for me…” His voice was almost like a sweet coo.

You squeezed your thighs together.

“Ain’t that right, baby?”

Your breath hitched. “I… Yeah…”

Logan’s smirk widened. “My sweet angel...” His voice was dripping with lust and you quickly picked up on it.

He leaned in and captured your lips. His lips moved eagerly against yours, the kiss getting sloppier with every passing second.

“You wanna show me your bedroom, sweetheart?” Logan mumbled into the kiss.

You hummed a yes and got up, eagerly leading him into your moonlit room. Logan kicked the door closed as his large hands moved from your waist to grope your ass. Your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him in closer.

You both stripped each other down to your underwear. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you off the floor. His mutant strength surprised you, causing a small yelp. He walked towards the bed to set you down. He sat you down on the edge of the bed.

“You’re so good to me, baby.” Logan whispered as he gently pushed you to lay down. He ravaged your body with kisses. One of his hands lifted you up while the other reached to unclip your bra. He practically tore it away as he peppered kisses down to your chest.

“Fuck… You’re perfect…” He muttered, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

You gasped out, “Logan…”

His mouth moved on one breast as his hand fondled the other. “Such a beautiful girl… You make such pretty sound, angel.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he put one of his knees between your legs and pushed it against your clothed cunt.

“Oh fuck…”

Logan smiled against your breast when he heard the vulgarity leave your lips. “That feel good, baby?”

“Mhm.” You could barely get out a sound as his knee began to move against your cunt.

“Oh, such a good girl. You’re making such beautiful sounds for me, sweetheart.” He cooed.

You whined as you felt his knee depart from your cunt. Logan got off you and gazed down for a moment. His eyes were clouded with hunger; a hunger only you could satisfy.

Logan got down on his knees and brought his head between your thighs. His kisses transitioned into soft bites the closer he got to your heat. His fingers hooked onto your panties.

“Can I take these off, my sweet angel?” He softly asked.

Logan saw you nod and pulled them off you. He felt a shockwave shoot through him at the view.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He said before he dove in.

You had always heard people talk about your world’s Wolverine being an animal in bed. It was likely a result from his many rendezvous as word spread in trickles. Now there you were in bed with him while he ate you out like his life depended on it. The most infamous rumor everyone heard had always been how he ate pussy like a monster. To your pleasant surprise, it applied to all Wolverine variants.

“O-Oh my god…!” You gasped out while you gripped his hair and the sheets.

If you didn’t know any better, you could have believed he was taking more pleasure from eating you out than you were.

Logan looked up at you while he snaked his hands from your thighs to find your hands. His large hands laced fingers with yours and he groaned when you squeezed.

You lifted your head a little bit to look down at him and the look in his eyes was almost enough to make you cum. His eyes were dark and were a window into the feral animal inside. The coil in your stomach began to tighten.

“L-Logan! Fuck! I’m close!” You whined, slightly, bucking your hips.

You could feel the smirk on his face against your dripping cunt. Your back arched as you threw your head back.

“Logan! O-Oh f-fuck! Fuck!” Your whines turned into cries of ecstasy as blissful nirvana washed over you.

Logan lapped for a bit longer, helping you ride out your high. Eventually, he departed from your poor pussy to get up on his two feet and lowered his briefs.

Your eyes slightly widened. “Oh fuck… You sure you’re gonna fit?”

Logan softly laughed as he climbed over you, caging you in his arms.

“It will, babe. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, ‘kay?” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Let me take care of you…”

His tone was both sweet and sultry. It was more than enough to make your knees weak and cunt throb.

“Gonna take it slow.” He positioned himself at your slick folds. “Ready, angel?”

Your hands found their way to his biceps, gently holding them as you braced for contact. The eye contact with him as you nodded was intimate in its own way, almost as if you were telling him how you trusted him. Logan moved onto his forearms for support as he slowly started pushing into you. You whined slightly as you hooked your arms under his.

“I know, baby, I know… Just relax.” Logan kissed your temple.

You held onto him for dear life as he bottomed out. His small grunt as he filled you up entirely. Fuck, he was huge. Unreasonably huge. But he filled you up just right. He placed kisses on your head as he tested the waters and rocked his hips gently.

“Holy shit, you’re fucking tight.” He groaned out.

You whined, “You’re just fucking big.”

Logan chuckled softly. “That too.” He grunted as he twitched inside you, “Baby, can I go faster?”

You nodded, completely lost in the bliss of intimacy. Logan started to pick up the pace, making the bed creak slightly.

“O-Oh fuck… You’re so fucking hot.” Logan groaned out in response to your whimpers.

You clung onto him and gasped at each thrust.

Logan let out a small breathy laugh, “Enjoying yourself, babydoll?”

Your lips were pursed and eyes squeezed tight as you concentrated on the toe curling feeling. “Mhm.”

He shifted and stood up on his knees. He flipped you over, making you whined, “Why’d you do that? I was close to being close…”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh. “‘Close to being close’? Baby, trust me, this will get you there faster, okay?”

“Mhm.”

Logan helped put you on all fours to hold your hips.

“God had favorites when making you…” He hummed in appreciation.

Before you could react, Logan slipped into you.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned from the unexpected movement.

Logan leaned over, his chest against your back as he thrusted deeply.

“Who does this cunt belong to, sweetheart?” He whispered into your ear.

You were too busy drooling over the mind numbing fucking he was giving you to even respond. He grabbed your face with one of his calloused hands, tilting your head back to look up at him as he pounded into you.

“Answer my question. Who does this pretty pussy belong to?” His words were sharp and harsh.

You whined and struggled to focus your gaze up at him. “Y-You, Lo-Logan! Fuck!”

“Mhm?” He cooed, “You feel how deep I’m fucking you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a soft cry. Logan’s harsh grip on your jaw shook your head a little.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

You opened your eyes and locked eyes with him. He gave you a wolfish grin.

“Such. A. Good. Fucking. Girl.” He snapped his hips at each word, making you grip the sheets tightly.

“G-Gonna cum!” You cried out.

“Mhm? My angel’s gonna cum?” His cock twitched inside of you. “C’mon, princess. Give it to me.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and he shook your head again.

“Keep your eyes on me. I want you to look at me while you cum.”

Your gaze immediately returned to Logan like a dog obeying a command.

“Atta girl.” His thrusts were brutal and unforgiving. Both of you were sure you’d lose your ability to walk for who knows how long.

“C’mon, baby. Give it to me. Wanna feel that pretty cunt cum.” His voice was almost like an animalistic growl. “Gonna fill up this tight pussy. Gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

Your voice got caught in your throat as you reached your orgasm. It was only after you reached bliss that your cry escaped your mouth. Logan’s cock throbbed inside of you as he shoot his warm ribbons inside of you. His hips gave a last harsh snap as he buried himself deep into you.

“Yeah, just like that.” He grunted. “Such a good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

Your body went limp from exhaustion and Logan helped by gently setting your upper body down, still buried deep in you. He leaned down to get close to your ear again. He brought a hand to brush hair out of your face.

“You okay, baby?” He softly asked.

You were a sweaty panting mess but was able to mutter out, “Mhm.”

Logan kissed your temple and caressed your arms. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel.”

The world felt confined to your bedroom, as if nothing else mattered. Your soft pants filled the room as he slipped out of you. He wrapped his arms around you and gently pulled you down to lay with him in his embrace. He kissed the back of your hair and rested his chin on your head. His large, calloused hand rubbed your thigh lovingly.

“I love you.” He muttered, breaking the comfortable silence.

You smiled like an idiot. “I love you too.”

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine #james logan howlett #james howlett #xmen x reader #x men fanfiction

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rustedhearts · 3 months ago

Text

keepsakes (boxer!steve harrington x fem librarian!reader)

summary: the heat goes out during an autumnal cold front in your new hawkins home, so you make the most of a cozy day at home.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1995) ✶ the library ✶ ‘tis autumn

✶ roller girl’s pie stand!

tags: pure marshmallow fluff, allusion to smut at the end. akin to old boxer steve from ‘22

hawkins, indiana. october, 1995.

“They said they can’t get out until Tuesday,” Steve huffs, slamming the phone back into the receiver on the kitchen wall.

You groan into the steam furling from the ceramic pot on the stove. “Ugh, come onnnn.”

Steve shuffles into the room with a sigh, thermal-sleeved arms winding their way around your shoulders. They fold together over your chest, guiding you back against him. You let him tuck his mouth into your neck, lips warm, nose cold. You jolt a little when it brushes your skin, giggling when he huffs a harsh breath.

“Mm, I know, angel. But ‘m here to warm ya up,” he mumbles against your throat.

Each of you had enough layers on to keep decently toasty. What you could rummage out of boxes still taped up now sat in a messy pile on your bed upstairs. You hadn’t expected such a cold autumn and thought you had at least a few weeks before you had to break out the winter gear. But now a long sleeve turtleneck sits under a clove-scented 49ers sweatshirt, big and bulky and soft inside like you liked it. Your sweatpants are matching in black color, and you have your hair tied up just like Steve liked it.

He has a white t-shirt under a navy blue thermal that makes his hair seem more chestnut than usual. His sweatpants are grey, the Jimmy’s Gym logo on the top right thigh cracked and faded from wear. You have a pair of his white socks on, and you think it’s adorable that the pair of you have matching feet right now.

Steve presses a noisy kiss to the column of your throat. His hair tickles your chin and makes you laugh again.

“Whatcha got planned today, hmm?”

You stir the wooden spoon through your soup again. “Guess.”

Steve hums thoughtfully, lifting from your neck to squint at the tile. “Hmm, if I had t’ guess, I’d say…reading in that ‘lil window upstairs, pretending you aren’t freezin’ your ass off.”

You scoff, cheeks warming. “N-no…”

“No?” Steve tips his head and kisses your cheek this time. “Saw the book already out. Waitin’ for you. Can’t you hear it calling, baby? All those words you have to read.”

You giggle, squirming in his arms. “Stop, don’t make fun of me.”

You click the gas off and Steve coos, clutching you a little tighter. His cheek is lukewarm when it presses to your temple.

“Aww, my ‘lil nerd. ‘s okay, angel, you know your librarian glasses are so fuckin’ sexy.”

You clutch the handle of the ceramic pot and veer toward the counter, where two mismatched bowls are waiting. Steve gets the hint, matching your steps until you’re moving together. You tip the pot and pour equal amounts of the chicken soup into each bowl, splattering noodle and broth drippings as you go. The window above the sink beside you is beginning to fog with the warmth of the stove. Beyond it, your neighbor’s tree is a vibrant yellow. Shedding pointed leaves across the yard, stuck in the jagged edges of the wooden fence. They gather on Steve’s BMW window, suctioned to the glass with this morning’s rain. The sky’s still a muddled grey, and you have all the lamps and candles lit in the house.

Steve somehow always gets horny in candlelight.

“My librarian glasses? Grab some spoons, please, baby?”

Steve takes one arm from your chest to lean to the left and open the utensil drawer. He gathers two spoons in his hand and nudges it shut, immediately returning to ensure both arms are back in place.

“Yeah. ‘s a good thing, baby, I promise.”

You take the spoons dangling near your collarbone and plop one into each bowl.

“Stevie, can you take ‘em? They’re hot.”

Steve takes a bowl in each hand around your sides and reluctantly pulls away from you. The pair of you whirl around and head for the dining room, a bowl clunking onto a plaid placemat at each assigned seating. Yet as you pull your chair out and go to sit, a pout appears on Steve’s face. He hasn’t even touched his chair.

“What?” you giggle.

“I just…you’re so far away.”

“I’m literally right here.”

“Too far,” he huffs. He swings around and directs his gaze toward the living room. “Let’s go sit on the floor.”

A soft smile touches your face, that glowing warmth gathering in your cheeks again. Oh, something about the cold made Steve so sweet.

“You wanna have a carpet picnic?” You beam.

Steve tips his head back and rolls his eyes. “You and that damn movie—yes, angel, we can have a carpet picnic.”

“Yay, okay! Take the bowls, please.”

He hides his grin against the back of your head when you flounce your way into the living room, forgetting all about the goosebumps and shivers you endured when you woke up to a frozen house this morning. You peel the throw blankets off the back of the couch and lay them on the carpet, smoothing out any wrinkles you know Steve will replace in just a few moments.

The bowls are placed on the coffee table, a folded napkin under each. Steve waits patiently at the corner of the blanket, knowing you’ll let him know when he can join.

The lamplight above you catches and glows on your left hand. On the diamond glimmering on your second smallest finger, haloed with beams of orange. When you lift your hands and pass the flames of the fireplace, amber rays pierce through the crystalline gem.

Steve watches all the while. Watches you move your hands, knowing soon your diamond will rest above a wedding band. In a mere month, just a few short weeks—you’ll be his wife.

The thought alone has Steve sinking to his knees. You whip around to scold him for interrupting your process, but squeak in surprise when he catches your face and kisses you. He smells like cold air and leaves and vaguely of the Marlboro smoked a few hours ago. He smells like Steve.

When he pulls away, you sit back on the blanket and grin. “What on earth was that for?”

Steve assumes the spot across from you, kicking his legs out beside you. He reaches for the soup bowls and carefully places yours near your tucked-in knees.

“What was what for?”

You scrape your teeth over your bottom lip and laugh. “Never mind.”

You turn your attention to the chicken noodle soup and Steve turns back to you. Watches through his lashes as you lift your hands and wipe away wisps of hair on your forehead. Black sleeves curled over your knuckles to keep warm, your fingers appear beneath them in delicate form. He wishes to do nothing but kiss them and stare more at that ring.

“Is it not good?”

Steve blinks, lifting his spoon. Your lips are shiny with broth and oil, eyes rounded in his direction. They catch the fire like your ring and they make Steve swallow hard.

“N-no, baby, ‘s good.” He quickly shovels a spoonful of the soup in his mouth to prove it.

You do a little squirm and smile that makes Steve chuckle. He hunches over his lap to slurp the broth and you wrinkle up your nose.

“Ew, Steven.”

His spoon clinks against the bowl when he drops it.

“Heyyy,” he warns playfully. “Don’t start. There was no attitude at their carpet picnic.”

You giggle. “No, but there was a blowjob if I remember correctly.”

Steve lowers his bowl completely, eyes suddenly alert. “Well, that’s welcome any time.”

Broth bubbles with laughter in your bowl. Steve watches you take small, quiet spoonfuls. When he decides you were only joking and there won’t be an immediate gratification for his Pretty Woman joke, Steve goes back to his soup, too.

Soon the soup is gone and the bowls sit empty on the table. You stretch onto your stomach and place your head on Steve’s lap, allowing his fingers to work over your hair. He pulls it free from its confines and smooths it down. Massages your scalp until your eyes flutter. The flames of the fire rest in dancing orange shimmers on your face.

The rain begins again. It comes with a great howling wind, rushing through the trees and shaking colors loose. The house darkens to near nighttime degree. A grey darkness that turns all the candle flames and lamplight in the room warm.

“Will you read to me, Stevie?” you inquire softly.

Steve’s fingers lag in your hair. He shifts, resting back on his palm.

“Uh…I mean—you sure? Y’ know ‘m not very good at it.”

You let your eyes close and smile to yourself. “I’m sure. I love the sound of your voice.”

Steve smooths his palm over the crown of your head, cupping it. With your eyes closed, he’s free to grin down at you and know it’s just for him. Do you have any idea what you do to him?

“Gonna let me up then?”

You hum. “In a minute.”

“Okay,” he murmurs in agreement.

He holds you there a moment longer, watching the fire warm your face; your socked feet cricketing together at the edge of the blanket contentedly.

“Okay,” you say, pushing yourself up. “Now you can go.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he stands. “Spoiled. What am I getting?”

“You pick. I’m gonna bake some cookies.”

Steve watches you bounce back toward the kitchen with both soup bowls. “Well Jesus, have a little faith in me. I know my way around your shelves.”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, setting the bowls in the sink. “You want chocolate or snickerdoo—“

Your words die on your tongue, slipping between Steve’s lips. He pinches your jaw in one hand and holds you still, mouth forced to pucker for his gift. He hums when he nips at your bottom lip, licking at his own when he releases you.

“Somethin’ t’ think about while ‘m gone,” he says, a heavy hand popping across the fat of your asscheek before he turns around.

Steve heads toward the stairs, ascending them while doing his best to crane over the railing and watch your flushed reaction until he no longer can. He immediately walks to your library–much smaller than the one back in California, but somehow it captured the girl he met in this very town better than anything in the sunshine state ever could—and directs his attention to your stuffed shelves.

He has absolutely no idea what he’s looking for, and stands for a while just staring aimlessly at the spines with his hands on his hips. He hears you clink and clang around in the kitchen. The beep of the oven. The slam of the oven door. It’s much colder in the library, and Steve swears there’s a draft in your window seat.

He turns to inspect it, pressing one hand firmly on the cold, foggy glass. As he leans over the plaid fabric of your window seat, his thigh nudges the corner of a leather-bound journal. He recognizes it immediately as the same journal always kept on the bedside table and in the bottom of your purse. It's always next to you so long as you can help it.

When he spins it with his finger, the Polaroid used to keep your last page inches its way to the edge. Steve slowly and carefully pulls it from the pages.

He sinks into the window seat when he's met with his own face.

Six years old now, the photograph is still as perfectly intact as the day it was taken. The flash collects in a younger Steve's eyes, making them appear darker than they really are. The film softens the emerald and violet bruise kissing his left cheek that Steve vividly remembers taking weeks to disappear completely.

He knows immediately where he's standing, where the photograph was taken by the color of the wall alone. The soft ballerina pink, the edges of rosebuds from now-outdated wallpaper. The arched mirror of your vanity rests just behind his shoulders, stretched and puffed broadly with the flex of his arms. Though the muscles are concealed beneath a heavy black sweatshirt, embroidered with his recent champion title.

And in the glossy white border just below his stomach where the photograph completes, remains your handwriting.

My boyfriend husband ♡

"Steeeve? Did you find one?"

Steve quickly clambers to his feet, shoving the Polaroid back into its place in the journal. He grabs the book you had sitting on your rumpled blanket on the cushion.

"Yeah, coming!"

His footsteps clunk down the stairs, and he's met with the scent of warm cinnamon when he finds you in the kitchen, wiping down the counter.

You spin with the rag in hand and a small grin. “Hey, did you find one?”

Steve sets the book on the counter gently. Your eyes turn to inspect the cover, surprised to see one of your “stuffiest” options waiting. Steve hates Dracula, and he hates attempting to read anything written before 1950.

Before you can question his choice, Steve takes a slow step toward you.

“How long do the cookies have?” he asks.

You glance at the timer. “Um…ten minutes, why?”

His hands smooth over your waist, thumbs pressing into your stomach. He grips you firmly, stepping until he can fit his head in your neck again. His response comes in the form of his mouth on your throat—latching on with his hot, wet suction. You gasp, hands flying to touch him: one gripping the front of his shirt and the other tangling in his hair.

He hums, releasing your skin to kiss it gently. He moves down, dragging his nose over your skin. His suction returns to the junction between your neck and shoulder, where the tendons are soft and waiting to be bitten. You jolt with a quiet squeak, grip tightening on his collar.

“St-Steve—“

“Shhh.” He moves one hand from your waist to your chin and tips it away to make room for his head on the other side of your throat. “‘s nine minutes now, angel. Come lay down f’ me so we can make the most of it.”

He takes your hand and leads you to the living room again, and you follow silently. Nearly hypnotized by his softness, tongue swollen dumbly in your mouth.

He takes both your hands to lower you down to the station of your carpet picnic. You thump to your knees, and he follows suit only to lay you on your back with his hand supporting the back of your head. When you’re flat, you blink up at him with bated breaths.

Steve smiles, fingers curling into the elastic band of your sweatpants. The house seems hotter than ever, a flaming warmth coating your body as his touch drags down your thighs with your clothing.

“Don’t worry. Your husband’s gonna take care o’ you, angel.”

#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut

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